


A Little More For Me Only

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [89]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The blood was thick in Will’s mouth, the pain a living thing. His heart screamed in his ears and he clung to Hannibal, his grip slipping through gore: his, the Dragon’s, and Hannibal’s own.





	A Little More For Me Only

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: canon divergence. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

The blood was thick in Will’s mouth, the pain a living thing. His heart screamed in his ears and he clung to Hannibal, his grip slipping through gore: his, the Dragon’s, and Hannibal’s own.

He thought _death_. He thought _shatter_ and _ocean_ and _love_. He teetered on the edge of something far greater than that lonely, now-silent cliff. He imagined he could still hear the Dragon's cries, long swallowed away by the wind.

He thought--

“No,” Hannibal said roughly, his hands going tight at Will’s waist. “Will, _no_ \--!”

And then Will was on the ground, they were, tangled a few feet from the edge in a bloody, gasping heap.

“My darling,” Hannibal whispered, in a voice Will had never heard before, “are you so eager to end your life now that ours, at last, has begun?”

*****

“They’ll find us,” Will said later, as they stood clinging to each other in the shower. “If we stay here, Hannibal. They’ll come.”

“Eventually, perhaps. But not tonight. Nor tomorrow.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hannibal tipped his head, ducked it under the warm, pounding spray, sending a fresh rush of stained water down his skin. “Because they have never done so before.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is.”

Will leaned into him, nuzzled the side of Hannibal’s neck. “I’m tired, Hannibal.”

Those nimble hands crossed, met wet on the plains of his back. “I know, darling. Stay awake a little more for me only and then we will rest.”

Thirty stitches in Hannibal’s side, big, uneven sutures woven by Will’s unsteady fingers, Hannibal's own as his guide. Then a sweep of ten across Will’s face, and though the flesh around it was mercifully numbed, he still felt every slide of the needle, every slip of the surgical thread.

He swallowed the pills Hannibal gave him and together, they stumbled towards a wide, beautiful bed. Cream sheets and an exquisite coverlet and the two of them clean, washed free of blood, of fear. Of any doubt.

“Sleep,” Hannibal whispered hoarsely. “Close your eyes and think of nothing but the future. All that will be ours.”

Moonlight pooled in Will’s eyes. He leaned his head against Hannibal’s shoulder and saw it before him, their future, as if it were dressed in day.

He had seen it before. Laying in Molly’s bed, her body sweet and sated beside him. He had lain in her bed, in the cradle of his new, perfect life, and craned his ears towards the dying fire, and when he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen Hannibal, the life they might’ve had together, and hated himself for wanting that future, still, despite all he'd been given, all that he had here at hand. On those nights, the ache in his chest had been like a fist around his neck, steadily suffocating.

Now, too, it was hard to breathe, but it was Hannibal who lay beside him, beneath him, holding on for dear life.

“I love you,” Will told the moonlight.

Hannibal’s hand found his unbroken cheek. “And I you. From the very first."

 


End file.
